Rebirth of the Creed
by Project Deathstar
Summary: I was separated from my family by the barbaric government of Panem. I discover that I'm part of a bloodline known to churn out the best of the best. I seek vengeance against the Captiol and to reunite with my mother and sister, only to find myself knees deep in a conspiracy between both rebels and the tyrants. I am Soran Aquila. I am an Assassin.
1. Chapter 1

_There is little of the world left. The 2012 Apocalypse has destroyed most of civilization, with Panem rising from the ashes. Unfortunately, what remained of the Templar order took control of this new government, turning it into a tyrannical dictatorship. Thanks to the efforts of Katniss Everdeen and her resistance, a new era of liberty and peace has begun for Panem. _

_However, when these events are retold, our involvement will be omitted, just like how it always has been since our order began. But let these series of documents be passed down to the Order's descendents, so that they may learn as to how we finally have achieved victory in our war. _

_This is the story of the Assassins' rebirth through the eyes of Grand Mentor Soran Aquila. _

_Nothing is true. Everything is permitted. _

**Chapter I **

People assumed that everywhere outside of the nation of Panem was deserted after Doomsday. They knew so little. I remember accounts from my grandfather about how this country...America, I think, was actually coming very close to how sheltered and self-absorbed Panem currently is. According to him, it's almost like Doomsday never happened.

At least, that's what us Outsiders tried to make it seem.

We tried to rebuild our ancestor's technology, immitate their government, social heiarchy, and education the best we could. But ruined cities aren't the best place to start your own civilization and raise a child.

Especially when soldiers from Panem come to make their annual raids.

Their Captiol and so called "career districts" knew of our existance and exploited it. They came, and abduct the women and children one by one, selling them into slavery, killing the men if they tried to stop them. That's how my father, uncle, and grandfather died.

It's also how I got separated from my mother and sister. I am the last one from my city, stuck on a transport surrounded by other victims from all across the western side of the continent. Twelve years old, white clothes caked in grime and dirt, hands bound in tight cuffs, and starving beyond belief, I was hoping that these guards would just get bored and decide to kill me.

I am asking for too much.

I looked around at the other soon to be slaves, most of them kids my age, some of them girls slightly older than me, no doubt going to be the ones in highest demand. You'd hope that society would have changed enough for this kind of perversity and sickness to have been obliterated, but once again, I am asking too much.

We all have different hair colors, skin tones, eyes, and body density, but there was one thing we all shared. Fear.

"You! The boy in white!"

I looked up to see a guard staring down at me, the white and black armor shining from the sunlight piercing through what little windows this craft had.

"Yes?" I asked, somewhat defiantly. These guys could do whatever they wanted to me, I have nothing to live for anyway.

"What did they call you?"

I glared at the guard. "Like I'd tell you, asshole."

I felt my throat constrict as I was lifted into the air with the guard's fist clenched around my neck.

"Name. _Now_."

"Fuck...You-" I gasped.

The guard threw me across the craft, causing me to groan in pain as I hit the cold, metal floor. I heard his footsteps approach me, and watched as he squatted down to my level.

"Well then, runt," the guard said. "Since you have such a _wonderful_ personality, how would you like to have a master that could easily kill you if you spoke like that to him?"

I gave a hoarse chuckle, even as the guard kicked me in the ribs. "I'm sold."

Just then, the intercom activated and a computerized voice filled the shuttle.

"Attention, passengers: We will be arriving in District Four in a few short minutes."

The guard smirked. "Tell me, have you ever heard of the Hunger Games?"

I remained silent. I had no idea what the Hunger Games were, and this guy should know it.

"Lucky for you, only tributes from the Districts can participate, so I can't throw you in the arena and watch you be torn apart. Instead, you will become the slave of the most recent winner and his family."

He pulled me up and escorted me to the shuttles hatch as it touched the ground.

"You should be honored," the guard laughed. "Not many game winners get a slave as a gift from the Capitol. In fact, most of these slaves go straight to the Capitol anyway. Anyway, I'm sure someone like Finnick Odair will put you in your place."

My ear perked as I heard the last name. Odair? Why did that sound familiar?

After we walked down the shuttle ramp, the guard shoved me into a military hovercar. I spent the whole drive silent as a grave as I watched the citizens of District Four go on with their everyday lives. I could see a few people just walking around, going into stalls or friend's houses, but most I could see were heading to the docks with various fishing equipment. Must be a major industry here.

When the car stopped at an area called Victor's Village, the guard pulled me out of the car and dragged me to one of the rather large marble houses. He knocked on the door and waited. A few seconds later, a boy with messy blond hair, about two years older than I was, answered the door.

"Mr. Odair," the guard greeted as he shoved me through the doorway. "As promised by President Snow, your slave. Caught fresh from the Outside."

Finnick glanced me over and smiled at the guard.

"Thank you," he said.

"Oh, and uh..." the guard stuttered. "My daughter is a huge fan of yours, so do you think I can get an autograph for her?"

Finnick flashed a bright smile. "Of course."

In the blink of an eye, Finnick left and came back with a slip of paper and a pen. He signed the slip, handed it to the guard, and saw him out the door. Once he left, the smile on Finnick's face faded as he walked over to me and unlocked my handcuffs.

"I'm not making you obide to the 'speak when spoken to' rule," he said. "I like talking to someone who speaks their own mind, and not the crap the Capitol feeds them."

I raised an eyebrow as my new master took me to the living room. "I wouldn't know, considering where I came from, but isn't it dangerous to talk like that about your government?"

Finnick gave a snort. "Yeah, but they don't have ears everywhere. I'm safe here, so I can say what I want. What's your name, by the way?"

"Soran Aquila."

Finnick turned his head curiously.

"Aquila? Hmm..."

"Is there something wrong with that?" I inquired.

"No, not at all," Finnick dismissed.

As we entered the living room, I stopped in front of a mirror in the entryway, to look at my reflection for the first time in months.

My black hair was long and unkept. My face seemed gaunt. My tanned skin seemed to have whitened slightly due to being kept out of the sun for so long. I couldn't believe I was looking at the same boy who was sitting in the living room with my family all those months ago.

"Mom, the slave's here," I heard Finnick call.

I turned from the mirror to see a woman approach us from one of the chairs. She was very attractive, with long blond hair, a slend body, and the sea green eyes of her son. I could guess that she had Finnick at a young age, because she looked to be in her late twenties.

She gave me a rueful look. "I'm really sorry."

"Sorry for what?" I asked, somewhat confused.

"That you have to be here," the mother said. "We didn't want a slave, we in fact greatly disprove of it. But..."

"But the Capitol threatened us if we didn't accept you," Finnick finished. "They like to keep the game victors in line and remind us who's in charge. They find different ways to take advantage of our fame and status, in this case, to promote slavery to Capitol citizens. If their champions have slaves, why shouldn't they?"

What kind of government is this? I was taught that this country used to be a democracy before Doomsday. How could they take this huge of a step back, and become this barbaric?

I put this thought aside. "What do you need me to do?"

The woman shrugged. "Mostly just help around the house, maybe run some errands at the stalls or help out with the local fishermen if they need it."

That didn't sound too bad.

"I'm Salacia, by the way," she said. "What is your name?"

"Soran," I replied.

"He said his last name was Aquila," Finnick added.

Salacia's eyes widened. "Aquila? Are you sure?"

"What about it?" I said. What was going on?

Salacia turned her attention back to me. "Tell me child, what do you know of Desmond Miles?"

I struggled to remember the stories my grandfather told me. "Only that he was credited for rebuilding most of society after 2012, and that he's my great grandfather."

"Did your grandfather tell you anything about the Assassin Order?"

"The what?"

"I guess that's a no."

Salacia turned to her son. "I'm taking him to the secret chamber. Make sure no one comes by in the mean time."

"Yes, mom."

Salacia walked over to the mantel. She pulled at a candle holder attached to the wall above it, and the furnace opened to reveal a staircase.

"Come," she commanded as she started down the stairs.

I followed cautiously. As the fireplace closed behind us, I moved closer to Salacia.

"Don't like the dark much, do you?"

"More like what's lurking in it."

I listened to her soft chuckle as she turned on a flashlight, illuminating her lovely features.

"Wise answer."

She led me down the spiraling stone steps.

"Does the Capitol know about this?" I asked.

"If they did, we wouldn't be here to show you," she answered. "District Four is secretly an Assassin stronghold, so there are plenty of chambers like this hidden throughout, built to honor our ancestors and hide our armories."

"But what _is_ an Assassin?" I pressed.

"Your legacy."

We got to the bottom of the stairs, and stopped in front of a wall with a seal on it. The seal looked like a fancy A with a skull in the middle of it. Salacia inserted two of her fingers into the skull's eye sockets and pressed upward, causing the skull to reconfigure, becoming inverted. Then, the wall opened inward, opening the way to the chamber.

The chamber was filled with statues. Statues of different people from different time periods. Time periods I had no knowledge of due to Doomsday wiping out most records of our history.

As we progressed down the line, similar looking statues of men wearing white hoods caught my eye.

"These are your ancestors," Salacia explained.

She pointed to the statue with chainmail and a missing ring finger, with a small blade run down his arm in its place.

"That is Altaïr Ibn-Le'Ahad, credited for making major reforms to our Order through the Codex."

She then directed me to another statue, depicting another hooded man, this one with a cape and two of those blades on his arm, with a fancy sword on his belt.

"And he is Ezio Auditore, the Prophet and the only one to have entered The Vault."

The last one in line was of a hooded man wielding what my grandfather called a tomahawk.

"Connor Kenway, or Ratonhnhake;ton, secretly helped turn the tides in the revolution that founded the old country."

She then led me to the statue at the end of the chamber, standing behind what looked to be a stone tomb.

"And this, is Desmond Miles, the chosen one who relived the memories of Altair, Ezio, and Connor in order to try and discover the mystery of Doomsday and stop it."

I stared at the statue. This was my great grandfather, the great Desmond. But if these men that I saw; Altair, Ezio, and Connor, were his ancestors, then that means they're my ancestors too. Apparently, we were all Assassins, whatever that meant. And now, Salacia said something about reliving memories?

I turned to Salacia with a determined look.

"Tell me everything."

**A/N: This is AU from the Assassin's Creed III ending, where Desmond chose to listen to Minerva instead of Juno, and in-universe with the Hunger Games trilogy. This story will chronicle the latest of Desmond's bloodline, and his conflict with the Panem government, run by the Templar remnants. Familiar characters will be revealed on both sides, but which ones?**

**Review to let me know what you think so far! **


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter II**

Assassins versus the Templars. That's how it's always been, secretly ever since as far back as human history can go. Over the next five years I spent with the Odairs, they educated me in the ideals of both sides, and why the conflict exists. From what they told me, both sides seeked the same thing, world peace and benefiting mankind. However, the Assassins wanted to accomplish this through free will and believing in the inherit goodness of man, while the Templars wanted to accomplish peace through force and stifling out free will.

Salacia tutored me on the history of the conflict and all of the important historical events my ancestors and other ancient Assassins took part in, through scriptures and text her family managed to salvage after 2012. From the Third Crusade to 2012 itself, I learned of the many pivotal people throught Earth's past, whether they were Assassins or Templars, and their hunt for rare, powerful objects called the Pieces of Eden. Not much is known about these artifacts except those who actually came into contact with them, like my ancestors, and the only reason Desmond could figure out what he could about their connection to 2012 was through the Animus; a device that allowed one to access the genetic memories of our ancestors. How is that possible? None are left alive to tell, because the Templars abandoned their front, Abstergo Industries after 2012, and the secret of the Pieces of Eden were taken with Desmond to the grave. Nevertheless, Salacia told me that we must remain vigilant, for the Pieces of Eden can still be out there, and it was only a matter of time before the Templars resurfaced and made a move.

Finnick taught me in the ways of combat. He instructed me on how to use a variety of weapons, including the sword, archery, guns, axes, and even his personal favorite; the trident. However, an Assassin needs to be quick and agile, so Finnick told me it's better to only have a couple of these weapons on you, in addition to the most important of the Assassin's tools, the Hidden Blade.

Which I have yet to recieve.

"When-am I-going-to get-one?" I grunted as I parried Finnick's trident attacks with my sword, during our daily training session in the small, grey training grounds. He managed to disarm me after wrenching my blade from me with his weapon, resting it at my shoulder.

"Hidden blades aren't given to Novices until they're assigned their first target," Finnick explained. "At least, I think. I know during the Crusades that Novices weren't given _any _weapons."

"Ezio got one when he was my age," I argued.

Finnick smirked. "Ezio was a special case. Personally, I don't think you deserve one if you can't even disarm your mentor."

I chuckled as I swatted away the trident. "I thought your mother was my mentor."

"Well, she's the Mentor, or leader," Finnick said, walking over to the weapon rack and placing the trident back on it and headed towards the stone door. "I'm your field mentor, your trainer. Honestly Soran, I worry about you if you can't remember basic terminology. Do my mother's lessons bore you?"

"Of course not," I said. "They're important, plus I find history fascinating since all I had were my grandfather's stories. My mind just... drifts sometimes."

Memories of my days before my abduction flooded my mind.

"To what?"

I didn't answer. Finnick got the hint and decided not to pursue the subject anymore.

The training grounds, hidden in the complex underneath District Four, had an exit that led directly through the sewers, and up to the docks, where no one will notice or care that two teenage boys, one of them being a district champion, are popping out of man holes daily. It was during these walks through the sewers that Finnick often challenged me to pick out small details in the dark, such as faint noises and movements, as a part of extra training. After correctly recounting the scurrying of a rat, a spider crawling above us, and detecting a slim breed of alligator cloaked in the shadows, we reached the manhole leading to the docks. As we climbed the ladder up back into the outdoor townscape, the smell of fish shoved its way up my nostrils.

"Don't you just love the smell of Cod?" Finnick said cheerfully behind me, inhaling the air loudly.

"I thought all fish smell the same," I shrugged.

"They do, but hey, what's a little imagination going to hurt?"

He then lightly tapped my shoulder and ran ahead of me.

"Race you to the top of the Justice Building," he called.

I grinned as I ran after him. "I'm gonna beat you this time!"

So we ran through the district, making our way through the crowds of people and looking out for Peacekeepers so that they don't catch us climbing onto the roofs of the stalls and houses. Finnick told me that they were easy enough to evade if you're quick enough, and if caught, easier to bribe.

After checking for Peacekeepers, I climbed up a chimney and perched on the top of it, looking for Finnick. Then, I see him, already halfway to the Justice Building!

I leaped from the chimney to a flagpole protruding from the nextdoor house, and proceeded to run across more rooftops from there. I smirked as I realized something; Finnick was taking the long way. A shorter way was through the market, which required less roof hopping, with only five compared to the twelve Finnick was jumping, but more distance in between jumps. The only problem was that I never jumped that long before.

First time for everything.

I started out slow, but gained speed as I ran. Let me just say, long jumps are easier than I thought they would be. Sure, there were a few instances where I barely missed and had to grab onto a ledge, but the adreniline pumping through me from soaring through the air, high above the busy streets, kept me motivated and empowered. I reached the Justice Building and quickly climbed up to the flat top of the rectangular building.

I looked around and gave out a laugh. "Finally! After all these years, I won!"

"I'll say."

I turned to see Finnick climbing up the side and grinning. "You really have come a long way, my friend."

"Only because of my teachers," I replied, nodding in respect.

Finnick clapped my shoulder and then took a seat on the edge opposite of where he climbed up. I walk over and join him.

"Two more days," Finnick muttered, tone filled with contempt.

My eyes narrowed down at the district. He had this mood every year when the Reaping approached. Anger, mixed with sadness. And who could blame him? All the children and teenagers here (except me, due to my public slave status) are practically waiting for a death sentence to be carried out. Yes, District Four has three still living victors, the most recent being Annie Cresta, but it's still a rarity for there to even be that many in a district.

"What was it like, Soran?"

I turned to him. "What was what like?"

Finnick twisted his mouth, as if thinking how to phrase what he would say next. "What was it like, living on the Outside. Before the raids?"

I sighed as I looked up at the evening sky. "Well, definitely not like this. We lacked proper construction vehicles and supplies, most of them taken by Panem and the rest wiped out in 2012, so we had to settle either in the wilderness or within the ruined cities. My family lived right on the hills overlooking Los Angeles, by the Hollywood sign."

I raised an eyebrow. "Why are you asking me now?"

Finnick shrugged. "Sorry. I didn't mean to come off as tactless."

"No, it's fine. I'm just curious."

"You ever hear the old phrase, 'the grass is greener on the other side'?"

I stared blankly at him.

"I guess not," he chuckled. "I don't know, I guess I just keep wondering if it would be better out there than living here. At least on the Outside, you don't have to worry about any of this Hunger Game shit."

"Yeah, but from what I can remember, the Outside wasn't peachy either. It's a fight for survival out there too, the real difference is that we didn't make a sport of it. Plus, now that I know the truth, I don't think I can live with myself for leaving these people in the Templar's hands."

"We don't even know if the Templars are directly controlling the government," Finnick said. "They're more behind the scenes, like we are. But if President Snow himself is a Templar, I sure as hell wouldn't be suprised."

"So why don't we just take him out?"

Finnick sighed. "It's not that simple, my friend. Yes, he's oppressive and represents the whole Templar mantra, but killing him won't end everything. They'll just immediately find some other power hungry maniac to replace him. To overthrow the Capitol, we need to get rid of it's key players one by one, and inspire the people to revolt."

"But none of them want to end up like another District Thirteen," I pointed out.

"That's only half of the problem," Finnick continued. "Right now, there are very few of the Assassins left, and plenty of Templars to go around. Even if the people revolt, they can find a way to continue to influence them, and just start the cycle over again. No, we need to eliminate the Templars first, _then_ take over the Capitol."

A sudden thought occured to me. "Salacia told me that a list was recently compiled of Templar suspects, right?"

"Yeah, I'm supposed to recieve it from a contact when I go to the Capitol with the tributes. Why?"

"Can it be crosschecked to see which of them own slaves?"

Finnick gave me a look of comprehension. "You want to find your sister and mother."

"We haven't been able to find them in the records of public Capitol citizens," I reasoned. "And if the Templars are usually wealthy, powerful people whose records can't access, maybe they have them."

I paused as I gained up the courage to make the request on my mind. "Let me come with you to the Capitol."

Finnick looked thoughtful.

"Just find someone for me to assassinate," I begged. "Though I would greatly appreciate it if the target was the one who had my mother or sister, I'd be okay if it was someone else. You and your mother can think of it as my final test to see if I'm ready to become a true Assassin."

"It's not my place to say yes or no," Finnick said.

"Then I'll ask Salacia."

"Go ahead, I'm not stopping you."

We were both silent for the next few minutes, as we watched the golden sun complete its descent into the darkening sky. I have to say, even with my anxiousness surrounding the possibility of rescuing my family, the cool breeze flowing past me made me feel serene. It was at times like this, where I can imagine myself as my family namesake; an eagle overlooking its land from its nest, ruling the aerial domain with pride and justice. I wanted to stay there the whole night, let my imagination overcome me and see things the way the eagle can, but I knew that was childish. I haven't imagined myself as anything in ten years. I grew up too quickly.

When the stars started showing in the sky, Finnick and I climbed down from the Justice Building and walked back to Victor's Village. Once we reached Finnick's house, I stopped in front of the gate while Finnick kept walking.

"You going to see Annie?" I called.

Finnick turned and gave me a sly grin. "Maybe."

I chuckled. "Tell her I said hi."

"Will do."

I walked up the steps and through the door, and with a drawn out yawn, realized how tired I was. Asking Salacia about going to the Capitol can wait until morning. Now, I needed a good night's sleep.

Which I did not get.

I woke up in a cold sweat, reaching for the switch on my lamp. I squinted at the light as I read the time on the clock next to the lamp.

3:40

I groaned as I ran a hand through my black hair, now matted in sweat. My nightmares haven't been as frequent as they used to be, but when I had them, it was always the same damn one. I am sick of reliving the deaths of my father, grandfather, and uncle, watching helplessly from the shuttle as they were lined up along the street and shot, wanting to jump out and slaughter those Capitol marauders, thinking, no, _praying _that there was something I could do to help despite the overwhelming, obvious truth that there was nothing I could do.

I got out of my bed and strode through my room to the door. It was small, and there wasn't much in it, just a bed, nightstand, and bookshelf filled to the brim with books the Odairs managed to salvage from 2012, but I'm lucky to probably be the only slave in Panem with quarters as comfortable as this, and with masters as kind as the Odairs. I doubt most slave quarters would be bigger than a broom closet.

I made my way through the hall to the living room, where I set a roaring fire in the furnace and slumped into a plushy, emerald armchair. Palms pressing against my eyes, I let out a groan as I let said palms fall and watched the flames dance.

"Can't sleep?"

I turned to see Salacia standing in the doorway, wearing a flowing liliac nightgown. She had her worried look on again, meaning I must've made noises in my sleep she might have heard.

"It was the dreams again," I admitted.

I watched as she slowly walked towards me. Once she reached my chair, she lightly brushed her hand against my face.

"They're just dreams," Salacia whispered.

"No, they're not," I sighed. "They're memories. Dreams you will forget almost as soon as you have them. Memories last forever."

"But we grow stronger from them," Salacia said. "Whether good or bad, they help us learn more about ourselves."

I felt my eyes begin to sting, and begun to feel embarassed in front of my mentor. "Why does it have to be so painful?"

Her hand squeezed my shoulder. "Loss creates a scar within us that never heals and is always sensitive when touched upon. Learning to live with the scar and be at peace with the pain is the key. You will understand one day."

After a moment of silence staring into the fire, I spoke.

"I want to go with Finnick and the tributes to the Capitol."

Salacia didn't respond.

"There's a strong possibility that my mother and sister are there, so I can kill two birds with one stone by rescuing them and taking care of Templar suspects there."

"You are still a novice."

"Then let me prove that I'm ready to be promoted," I pleaded.

I looked up and Salacia was biting her lip.

"Please," I whispered softly.

Salacia sighed and gave a weary smile.

"Alright."

I breathed out in relief. Salacia then waved a finger at me in warning.

"But you can't be discovered. The Templars don't know we still exist, and it would be best if we kept that advantage. Be as discreet as possible."

"Yes, Mentor."

She smiled and ran a hand through my hair.

"In all these years you've been with us, you have become like a son to me and a brother to Finnick. I don't think I could bear it if anything happened to either of you. Please look out for eachother."

"I will."

"Good, now go back off to bed. You still have training in the morning."

I nodded and headed back to my room. Upon getting there, I plopped back onto my bed and closed my eyes with a renewed sense of hope.


End file.
